Red Robin Revamped
by UnlikelyValiantTiger
Summary: Tim is back in Gotham for the anniversary of his parent's demise. He stumbles across evidence of his family's secret legacy and with this being a personal matter, Tim decides to investigate. The adventure will take him back in his family tree and into the makings of Gotham's high society. Tim will have to survive and deal with what he uncovers about his family's past.
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

…

Hard to believe it's been so long since he'd stepped foot in Gotham as Tim Drake. With the events of the last year's invasions and madness still fresh in everyone's mind, the earth's heroes had their hands full trying to clean up the mess. The Titans were cleaning up the west coast and helping with damages, and Red Robin was currently aiding the league in updating their analysis software to detect anomalies in the future. Then there were the new recruits, and new heroes that were showing up, and you've got yourself a tight schedule. Nothing Tim couldn't handle, he was great at multitasking and setting up an improved system to what the league was using was something Tim could do in his sleep. Still, all the activities had kept him clear of Gotham for quite some time, and with the date closing in Tim felt he needed to at least make an appearance. After all, he was taught to be proper, and it was something he still remembered of theirs.

"Good morning, Master Tim." Alfred greets him, opening the door wide for Tim to enter.

"Hey Alfred, where's Bruce?" Of course, he already knew the answer, back before he was even a stand-in CEO. It was Thursday morning and the board always had their meetings on Thursday mornings, a tradition started by Bruce's father when the company was first formed. Still, it kept their conversation going and delayed the real reason Tim was back in town after so long.

"Already gone I'm afraid. The board's meeting is today, and he had to be in bright and early." Alfred answered him, leading the way into the expansive kitchen area. The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla clouded the air, masking the cold emptiness of the room and making it feel more welcoming. Tim slowly entered the room, watching Alfred over by the oven, disappearing behind the island before popping back up with a tray of cinnamon buns in his mitted hands. Laying them out on a cooling rack, Tim took a seat at the island, watched as the sugar popped and sizzled on the still warm pan. The room was quiet as Alfred worked, Tim lost in his thoughts staring at the drizzling of icing slowly succumbed to gravity and rolled down the buns to join the caramelized sugar stuck to the pan.

He could remember the Saturday mornings with Bruce and Alfred when they would have cinnamon rolls. Sometimes Dick would join them, if he was in town. They would talk about cases or something going on with the Titans or Wayne Enterprise, and it was nice. Damian never joined them, complaining none to quietly how he would not eat that garbage for breakfast since he had to be in his best shape to train. Not that it bothered him. It was one of the only times where it was just him, Bruce and Dick.

If Tim thought back farther, he could vaguely remember a breakfast before his parents left on one of their trips when they had cinnamon buns too. That time was nothing like the ones he had here; that was a sullen occasion; a treat before his parents left him again to go on some trip or something.

Someone cleared their throat, forcing Tim back into the land of the living. Looking up, he caught Alfred's gaze.

The butler stared into Tim's eyes, as if he could discern exactly what was bothering the boy. He quietly raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question.

He couldn't do it anymore, Tim lowered his gaze back to the cinnamon buns. He was the leader of the Titans, could calculate his way out of any problem, and had saved the world before. Emotions were not facts he could study. Not something he could trace back to a logical start and solve. Emotions only got in the way of work. But he couldn't shake them, and that was what drew him back to Gotham in the first place. He needed to work through them, and although he could do it alone (yes he was sure he could, he just had to think harder. The week before and the trip here didn't prove that he couldn't, he just had to try _harder_ ) he decided getting a second opinion from a confidante couldn't hurt. So he had said goodbye to his teammates and had returned to Gotham to find answers. His first stop had been Wayne Manor, and with that, the trusted butler.

"Master Tim," Alfred began, setting down the oven mitts he had been wearing, "I know the anniversary of your parent's death is bothering you, and there is no need to explain yourself if you do not wish to, but know that you are not alone in facing this."

"…. Everyone's families have been checking in on them over the past month or so. Starfire even traveled back to Tamaran last week to see everyone, Cyborg's dad called, and…. I haven't even _seen_ Bruce yet. And it's been five years since my parents were murdered." _Doesn't even feel that long,_ He mused, _Or even like they're… gone. Just as if they're out on a trip or something._

Alfred was silent for a moment, "I see. Master Bruce will be back today. And I know he will be delighted to see you again."

Tim found himself smiling, "You make it sound like I'll be here that long."

Alfred didn't reply for a moment. "will you be doing anything in memorial today sir?" _would you like some company?_

"yeah, I think I'll go check on the house, I won't be gone long." Tim replied, quietly shifting off the stool and heading out the door.

"Very well sir, do call ahead if you will be late for dinner, I am making chicken marsala and donuts for dessert." Alfred called after him. Left alone in the room Alfred was left to return to baking the cinnamon rolls and coating them in icing. _He's trying to hide it but Master Tim is deeply troubled about something. Although the boy has every right to miss his parents, he seems a bit more concerned about it now than I have seen him before, excluding of course, the day they were murdered. I do hope Master Tim will bring himself to talk about it. Although with any of them that may be a lost cause._ Sighing, Alfred returned to the task at hand. Determined to make sure Bruce at least talked to Tim before heading out on patrol tonight. _It would be good for you both to see each other again, alive and well, before you run off and try to get yourselves killed._ He though, sliding the second batch into the over and shutting the door with a loud click.

…

The door to Drake Manor opened with a groan and a shuffle as Tim pushed his way into the old house. Everything was just as it was left, with an added inch or so of dust to them. Memorizing every detail of the opening foyer, Tim couldn't help but notice how vacant and un-personalized his old home's was compared to Wayne Manor. There were no photos of his family, images of anything that the Drakes enjoyed expertly framed to display of even a misplaced item laying around that may make the place feel used at all.

That was partially why Tim had felt the need to return to his old home. With his teammates leaving to see their own families and mentors, Tim felt… well he wasn't entirely sure. Abandon wasn't right; he had work to do, and the others were busy trying to restore balance to the world and round up any rogues still out there. Dick had called to make sure he was all right. And Jason had been on the news a week ago so he knew he was alive. But seeing others with worried and proud families reminded him of his parents _. I wonder how they would react to all of this_. In the past, Tim hadn't thought too much about how his parents would feel about what he did. But with his new family too busy to talk to him, he was beginning to feel edged out; as if he didn't belong anymore. Or that he was being replaced and edged out of the timeline into a new person who doesn't share the same backstory. Walking around his old home, he was trying to remember the times he had with his family and what he remembered of them. Which wasn't much.

Sighing, Tim turned and gradually made his way towards the upstairs levels. At least there would be signs of an old life there. Tim made is way down the left hallway that came to his room. Opening the door, he found it just as he had left it when he left to live with Bruce. A small smile made its way onto his face as he remembered that day. He never could have guessed he would end up being adopted and becoming a hero. The wall adjacent to his bed was still covered in old photos of Batman and Robin, as well as news articles and his own notes on behavior, known patrol roots, and even details on who they were. Tim reached out and grabbed the page on identities, pulling it from the wall and crumbling it. No need to leave that up if anybody else ever came back here.

Not that there was anybody else _to_ come back here.

Tim left and made his way to the opposite side of the upper level, towards his parents' room, his father's office, and the family area. Tim leaned on the door frame as he glanced around the silent room. The outdated computer on the mahogany desk in the corner, to the bookshelf wall across from the door and the soft grey couch facing a TV in the center of the room. _This is the closest they would let me get to them,_ Tim mused. Mind flying back to the times he would spend in here while his parents discussed things in his father's office. He learned how to use a computer on the one in this room, using it to learn about the many places his parents were leaving him behind to go to, and the circus his parents had promised to take him to when they were back in town miraculously once. Then to dig up all he could on the Flying Grayson's his parents had taken him to see, and finally connecting the dots to Batman.

His father had never allowed him in his office, and always slunk back to that room whenever they were back in town. Sometimes guest would come over, and the Drakes would always entertain them in that room. _They always made time for guest but never me. Mom and Dad lived their whole lives in that office, and never let me in. Clearly_ , he sneered, _they never cared at all._

Tim pushed off the doorframe on that thought and turned down the hallway to the closed door. Hesitantly, he turned the knob to find the door locked.

 _Humph. Typical,_ crouching down he slid a paper clip from his pocket and started to picked he lock. Hearing the tell-tale sign of the lock being bypassed Tim slid to his feet and opened the door.

The room was smaller than he imagined, but probably the regular size for a home office. The walls were coated in a dark natural wood, with the wall across from him being made up of a large fireplace. To his right was a large amber wood desk, artfully covered in a computer, work mat, notebooks, pens, and neatly stacked papers, all perfectly aligned with not one element out of order. The grand window behind the desk displayed the once-kept backyard and woods. The opposite wall was concealed with an enormous poster of the world, with pins placed in specific places and photos immaculately placed next to the poster. The floor, a chestnut as the majority of the upper floor was, now camouflaged under an elaborately woven mat, with muted blues, green, and golds.

Tim stepped further into the room and walked over the wall atlas first. _These must be all the places they visited._ He recognized a couple of pins from the places he'd researched and a few he was told about, but some were places he never knew they went to. He studied the map for another minute before making his way over to the grand desk. Sitting in the large plush chair he first turned his attention to the computer. Hitting the power button, he waited for the system to start up and started to go through the drawers. The small one to the left of him held nothing of interest; some pens and a stapler, the one underneath of that faired just as poorly as did the top right drawer.

 _There must be something… Except I don't even know what I'm looking for,_ he thought miserably. _I'm not even sure there's anything to find._ Pulling on the second drawer down Tim was surprised when it wouldn't give. _Now we're getting somewhere._ Tim smirked to himself, pulling out another paper clip he make quick work of the lock before ripping the drawer open. For starters, this drawer was larger than it was supposed to appear. The wood encasing around it actually opened wide enough someone could fit a full size portfolio or laptop in there without anyone knowing. Inside were multiple Victorian style keys, a leather-bound burgundy notebook, and several lose-leaf notes. Picking up the first note, he skimmed it.

The nest will be in within a month. The picks are slimmer than before but there is a gem within the mix. Survey and choose your bird.

~thnames

Squinting, he focused on the name at the bottom of the letter. _Too smudged to read, but I bet a microscope and some lead retrieval software on the bat-computer will be able to tell me._ Instead, he leafed through the rest of the letters. Some were from trusted business accomplices at the time, others were notes scribbled in his father's handwriting about other mundane things. Eventually, he pulled out the notebook. Running a hand down the front Tim took a deep breath. Opening the front cover an insignia on the front page froze his blood in his veins and made the world around him jolt to a sudden stop.

It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. In fact, over the last year he had seen that same symbol over a dozen times and had studied it a dozen more.

It was a bird. With wings fanned out to arch over its head and claws out at the bottom. The detail work was simple, but it helped to map out the shape of the bird well, clearly making it out to be an owl.

The Court of Owls.


	2. Chapter 2

CH 2.

His body was frozen in place as Tim stared at the symbol carved into the leather. _The court of owls?! Why would my parents have a journal… were they_ _ **in**_ _the court? No, no… they traveled too much, there's no way…"_ but there was no disputing the insignia staring back at him from the book. Taking a deep breath Tim stilled his mind and went into detective-mode. _Somethings not right._ Reaching back into the drawer and grabbing the rest of the items, he quickly stuffed them into his jacket and pockets. He quickly went through any of the remaining drawers and started to re-sweep the room looking for anything out of the ordinary. Taking pictures of the map, the photos on the wall, and anything else he thought might be useful. A few moments later, he had catalogued in his mind all the details of the room. Resituating himself at the desk, Tim pulled his hidden utility belt out of his pocket and retrieved a small flash drive.

As the program began to transfer all the contents of the computer to the flash drive, his phone gave a soft ding from his pocket. Dinner in 10 min. _Alfred. Right._ Turning back to the computer _, I need to get to the bottom of this. If my parents were in the court, it could help Batman find a link into defeating them once and for all._ The Court was still active, and after a tough fight, neither side was truly victorious. Batman Inc. may have won the battle, but the Parliament of Owls was still at large, and the clues to their identities or whereabouts were gone. The last thing they needed right now was another all-powerful enemy trying to take control and the court's talons were not villains they could handle facing right now.

Still, the facts weren't adding up. The court was stationed in Gotham, and they hadn't heard of them spreading too far from there. Gotham was their post, and his parents travelled. _It doesn't make sense…_

Turning and retracing his steps to the door, Tim grabbed the door and slammed it shut, stalking back down the hallway back towards Wayne Manor. He was **going** to find out what was going on.

…

 _First, the facts:_

 _The Drakes came to Gotham in the late 1800s, same as most of the families. By that time, the Founding families had run most of everything in Gotham but the other families coming into the city were able to expand Gotham as well as add shops and other industries to the mix._

 _The court, theoretically, would have already existed at the time, if what they claim is true, so the early Drakes would not have been a part of it until arriving in Gotham. That would mean one of the founding families would have been a part of it, and possibly approached them. No way of knowing, but possibly something that can be looked into for patterns; events held, all belonging to the same club, shared investments…_

 _Ok, next: Alvin Wayne; all the buildings he had built are supposed to have secret rooms for the court in them. Will need to investigate to see if there are any artifacts, any pictures, letters, and evidence, to link other members to the court._

 _The photos:_ Tim turned back to his desk and picked up the last one, adding it to the wall. He had scanned each and every one from his father's room and compared the people to the photos Bruce had taken of court members from the secret floor in the older Gotham building. Having set his computer to cross reference body types to his parents and others he could identify from the photos in his father's study, he waited for the results. _No matches in the database, but possibly to other members in Gotham. Need to run another scan…_

Tim had been looking through everything he knew about the court, his parents, and what he had collected in his father's study, looking for any overlaps or clues.

Staring at the once blank wall in front of him, Tim stepped back. As was his habit, he had linked all the evidence and suspicions about the court in a web.* There was still a lot that he was missing, Tim was sure, but at least this started to put everything in perspective. There was a concerning gap in knowledge about his family's past, the Court, and their connection to Gotham.

Peeling his eyes away, they instead landed on the blood-red journal on his disordered desk. Opening the book once again, Tim carefully began to turn each page.

The first page contained a crossed out list, each blacked out in ink. _May not be able to salvage whatever that was…_ Tim thought. The rest seemed to be a garbled mix of everything. Time had truly warn on the journal's pages, and some were little more that ghost of the original contents. There were what appeared to be letters, list of numbers, drawn photos, and some poems. Others seemed to make no sense at all, appearing to be random dots, letters, numbers, and lines all scribbled on pages.

Situating himself at his desk so he could see the web in front of him, Tim began to reflip through the book and compare it to his web. _These must be ciphers._ He determined, _so anyone who came across this and wasn't supposed to would have no idea what they were looking at._ Then Tim noticed something else. _There are several different types of handwriting here too, looks like at least four. I don't recognize my parents' handwriting though_. Coming to the third page in the journal, he stopped. It was a drawing of the Symphony Orchestra house in downtown, one of the oldest buildings in Gotham. Underneath the sketch it said, 'Henry C's Contribution, underneath'.

 _Henry C? The Opera house was built by the city, there was no one person named as the benefactor._ Turning back to his laptop, he searched Gotham records from the 1800s and came up with 30 matches. Narrowing the results to whom of the remaining candidates would have had the money to build it and he immediately knew which was right. _Henry Cobblepot; Penguins great-great grandfather, one of the founding families of Gotham and an obsession with birds and money._ Smirking to himself, a plan began to form in his head. _Time to visit some old enemies._

 _A/N:_

I don't know if this is just fanon or not, but I see a ton of stuff with tim making string webs and boards for cases, and I have no clue if this is real or not. Also, I did research for this chapter into cobblepot family tree and into Tim's and I know some things are off but I tried guys OK? Please tell me what you think, I know this chapter is short I needed a filler to build to the next few chapters. Any ideas you want to see let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The Gotham City opera house.

Founded in 1843 and built by the people of Gotham city it was one of the largest and most ornate opera houses of the time. With impressive somber stonework and the multiple levels able to house over 5,000 people, it was one of many intricate pieces that gave the city its gothic feel.

With the passing of time, the building has been overshadowed by skyscrapers and newer, more advanced buildings but still stands and is regularly used to house events. Such as the event, that Tim found himself in attendance to.

It was a charity event, another Gotham elite posing as a philanthropist inviting other elite to throw money at a cause. Bruce had been invited, and since he wasn't interested in going and Tim needed an excuse the timing was perfect.

The opera house was decorated meticulously and the orchestra set the tone to a whisper of jazz and classical music. The room was filled with small talk and after the first hour of socializing on behalf of his and Bruce's image Tim was able to slip away to investigate the remainder of the building.

Tim didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but as he had been taught, he trusted he would know when he came across it.

 _Underneath, the book had said underneath._ Tim thought back to the previous night, where he spent close to an hour trying to find where Penguins latest hideout was and debating on checking the ruins of Cobblepot manor before concluding that there was no point in searching the ruins when he didn't know what the drawing meant yet. Tim had considered interrogating Penguin about his deceased relative, but with no leads yet and other avenues available to him he abandoned the idea and went with plan b, where he had spent the next two hours digging up all he could find on Henry Cobblepot and the opera house. What he discovered was the Cobblepots had been in the steel industry and had built many of the early buildings with steel beams as the bones, smart move, seeing as the buildings survived this long. They were close with the Waynes, at least enough to partner on designing early skyscrapers with the help of Judge Solomon Wayne, who created the unique sculpting of the building's designs.

Tim was even able to pull up the original schematics of the building he was now in and compare them to modern takes as repairs and new technology evolved and the building was outfitted with advancements. _There,_ Tim thought _. The older schematics showed three possible points from sewer areas and no exits when underneath the building in the crawl space. The newer outlines show a possibility of four. Why would the architect not include one sewer point on each side of the building? Or was this possible fourth one closed up for some reason?_ Needing to check further Tim pulled up two additional schematics; this time for Gotham tunnels. The ones from the same time frame as the original Opera house designs showed no tunnel system that would have linked to the hidden fourth exit, while the newer one showed adjacent system to the fourth opening, but no way to access it. Still, with the journal telling him 'underneath' and a possible hidden escape hatch, it needed to be looked into.

Tim made his way to the first floor of the opera house and slunk into the main stage area while checking his surroundings. Luckily, there was no show tonight, so the room was empty. Quickly closing the space between himself and the stage Tim jumped on and went straight back. The supposed space was directly behind stage, at the back of the building and dipping down into the workers area. Tim would theoretically be able to access it from just under street level. Shuffling down the small staircase Tim found the crawl space and started to look for anything out of the ordinary. Pulling out his phone, he set it to scan the wall for beams. If the opening was real, there wouldn't be a beam in the middle of the area. Instead, there would have to be a horizontal one between two on both sides to create a doorway of sorts and still supply support for the wall.

 _Bingo_. There was an archway here, it had been plastered over and concealed. _There had to be a way to access it, there is no way someone would just start chopping away at a fake wall without people noticing. So there has to be a way to open and close without drawing suspicion._ Running his hand along the wall where the beams stopped Tim started looking for a way to open the wall. Stepping back when no answer was found Tim studied the wall in front of him. _Ok, the mechanisms needed to open the wall would have to be a pulley or trick slot of some kind, something that would release a weight and pull the space open somehow. It would need to be hidden where nobody would find it, but seem natural backstage an opera theatre. It would have to be some sort of a pulley system for the time it was constructed, and if it's not on this wall…_

Turning around and faced with boxes for the theatricals of the stage and pulleys, Tim restarted his search. _If I'm right…_ eyes searching the wall, he found what he was looking for _._ There was a small box carved into the wall and covered by the sandbag pulleys that was clearly older than the rest. Too small to hold a switchboard, the box didn't need to exist. On closer examination, it had a small opening in the center. _The keys,_ Tim hadn't thought to bring them with him to search the building, but did have a skeleton key in his utility belt. Grabbing the key and a small piece of metal to fill the slot he got to work picking the lock. It was harder than he thought it would be but none the less the lock gave way and Tim turned in time to watch the wall slide open with a groan. Lips twisting into a smirk at his own brilliance, Tim grabbed a small cyalume light stick from his pocket and started into the tunnel. _According to the blueprints, this small tunnel should connect to Gotham's older sewer system. That's where the court of Owl's maze was, somewhere underground and must have been accessed through these tunnels. So in case of emergency, court members could escape through their buildings through connecting tunnels like this one, and get to their base and Talons. It's a smart move, something that could come in handy in another world crisis,_ Tim mused. _I wonder if there's a way to create small bat bunkers under buildings Bruce had built and tunnels to connect them._

Lost in thought Tim was jerked back to reality when he heard the echoing rumble of the entrance to the tunnel close several feet behind him. At first he thought there must have been a timing mechanism for the opening to ensure it wasn't left open for preying eyes, but then he heard it; a small hissing sound. The room started to become thick and his chest constrict tightly. _Whatever that gas is,_ Tim's breath hitched painfully, _it's…_ cough… _unbreathable._

Quickly he reached for his utility belt, concealed as a regular belt. Coughing non-stop, Tim searched quickly for the small re-breather tube. Feeling his legs start to give, collapsing on the floor before finally pulling the device out and turning it on. Finally able to breathe again, it was then Tim noticed the tunnel was much warmer than when he had first entered. _The gas must be reacting with something,_ wiping at his sweaty forehead. _I need to get out of here._ Still a bit light headed, Tim gripped the wall for leverage and hauled himself onto still shaky legs. Taking a deep breath out of his rebreather, Tim as quickly as he could made his way deeper into the tunnel.

Still gripping the wall as support and feeling the drops of sweat drip down the back of his neck into his dress shirt, Tim's mind was racing for answers. _Who closed the entrance? How…how did they know I was down here? And,_ cough, _what is… oh no._ Reaching the end of the tunnel was a brick wall. _When they redid the system… they must've sealed this one._ Time was short now. His rebreather was running out of air from his heavy breathing, the light was starting to dim, and nobody was expecting him back for another two hours at least, time he didn't have. _OK, think. What… what do I have?_ His phone was dead, so no calling for help. He also didn't have signal in the tunnel for his communicator to work, which was strange but there wasn't time to worry about that. He knew he had some explosive batarangs, a small laser device, those would be his best bet. But how to use them? Stepping up to the wall and running his hand and light to it he frowned. _Mold, there's no moisture in here. Could be drips from rain, but more likely the other side of this wall is pluming. Blasting this will only drown me._ Tim started thinking of another way, feeling the room start to become an uncomfortably sauna. _I can't go back… back the way I came,_ he concluded, running a hand over his sweaty face. _Whoever closed it could still be back there, I can't fight them like this, and I don't know if I'll make it back._ That left only one possible answer.

…

Gotham nights were cool and deadly. The city's most noteworthy citizens preyed on others through back alleys and on the streets. Smart citizens went out armed or not at all, or stuck to the nicer areas of the city; where things were lit and there were too many people for robust crooks to try anything.

As it was, three 'citizens' were behind the Opera house where a large event was taking place, hoping some poor rich person would walk down as a shortcut to their car.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, just keep ya mouth closed and somebody'll come by, we grab their stuff and boom, were done."

"Yeah, but-"

A loud buzzing sensation followed with a banging filled the air, startling the three men. A loud pop followed with some smoke and they could see someone climbing out of the ground?

The smoke cleared as the person collapsed onto the ground, dragging his body from the hole and pulling something from his mouth, breathing heavily. The three grunts looked at each other before one started to creep forward. Taking stock of the black suit and gold belt, the grunt stopped a few feet away from the man on the ground as he turned to look at him. The goon sucked in a breath, realizing whom the stranger was and turned to yell to the other two, "Holy shit! It' some dead Wayne!"

Tim coughed a laugh out of his strangled throat and muttered, "No that's Jason," before climbing to his feet. The other two men looked at each other for a moment before turning and running away from their leader and Tim. The third man, watched his accomplices run scared before turning back to Tim, only to be met with a bat-glare. Taking his que, the goon turned and ran after his friends, leaving Tim alone in the alley. Tim sighed feeling the tension drain from his shoulders as he was left alone in the alley. What he needed to do now was find a way to call Alfred and get back to the manor; he had work to do.

…

Alfred was considerably not pleased at the state Tim was in when he arrived. However after Tim spent the entirety of the ride back explaining everything that had happened, Alfred's ire was softened. Still, once they were back the elderly butler had demanded that Tim be thoroughly checked over to make sure the gas wasn't dangerous. An hour and a half later Tim was back in his room to go over what had happened tonight.

Sighing, Tim resituated himself at his desk to examine everything he learned tonight. _Somebody knew I was in that tunnel and tried to kill me. How? Nobody was around when I entered, I checked. There was no alarm system, I would have found it. That system was old. Nobody had used it in ages, so who saw it open and knew what it was? Then why risk killing someone who may be in the court and using the tunnel? They had to be sure it wasn't someone in their little club, and try to wipe them out. Still, if the tunnel was sealed, and they were no markings to indicate who built it, why bother killing them?_

 _Whoever tried to kill me was sure that whoever was in the tunnel knew what it was, was not one of their own, and was someone that needed to be eliminated. In fact, they probably knew that it would lead to a dead end and have an easy way to kill someone and not have to worry about a body. They must have known I was in there and they were trying to keep me from finding anything about the Court. Or is this because Bruce turned down their invitation, or they know about our night jobs?_ Tim sighed, burying his face in his hands. _That would mean someone was watching and knows about Batman. That would pose a bigger problem than my parents' involvement with the court._

Face scrunching in anger Tim ran his fingers through his hair letting out a low groan. This was ridiculous. Why couldn't he see through this? Taking a deep breath Tim closed his eyes for a moment before coming to several conclusions. The first being that he was on the right track; everything else aside tonight that tunnel was real, and proved that the book was real as well. The second was that now more than before Tim needed answers; if his parents were involved or if someone is watching them Tim needed to know. And lastly; Tim was going to have to be careful with his investigation. He would have to outthink his opponents every step of the way. But he was one of the greatest detectives in the world; he could match their mind games move for move. The Court of Owls was about to meet their match.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

…..

Tim was awoken the next morning by a rather annoying "tt" from somewhere to his left. He had fallen asleep late that evening after racking his brain trying to figure out what his next few moves would be.

Rolling tenderly from his right side to his left on the bed he nearly groaned when he saw who was there. "What are you doin' in m- room?" Tim mumbled, fixing Damian with a muted glare.

Damian made his signature tut before sneering at Tim, "Pennyworth called for you three times for breakfast before Father sent me up here to see if you were still alive. It would be unpleasant to the rest of us if you started to rot away and attract pest."

"So nice of you to care." Tim sneered back, swinging his legs to the side of the bed and gingerly standing. He was still sore from digging his way out of asphalt and his body ached at the use. Brushing past Damian, Tim had almost made it to the door when Damian's voice halted his steps. "Tt, and I see you've destroyed your room again over a pointless case." Tim whipped around in time to see Damian step closer to the web adjacent his bed and squint as he tried to decipher some of Tim's messy handwriting. "What do you care? And get away from that!" Tim marched over and grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulder and wretched him away from the map. Damian took a careful step back and stared at Tim with brows furrowed together and a neutral mouth. "If you are in fact working on a case, perhaps-"but he cut himself off, choosing instead to look around the room at the rest of the notes spread out everywhere. It must have looked complex, but Tim had a method and knew every piece. "… if you are, in fact, working on a case," Damian resumed carefully, " and clearly not making headway, why are you not compiling data, _downstairs,_ or with Father's expertise?" he finished, once again fixing Tim with a questioning look.

Tim wanted to tell him the obvious reason, he didn't need help, not every case had to be done in the bat-cave, and Bruce wasn't infallible; sure, he had taught Tim what he knew, but that didn't mean he had to come to him over every case or that he knew what was best. Besides, the only way to improve one's skill was to practice. Tim also knew this was something he needed to solve for himself. They were his parents and this was about him. He could do this and he didn't need anyone's help. They didn't need him after all, so he didn't need to go whining to them about a case. Tim could and would do this on his own.

So instead of answering Damian he pushed him out of his room, pulled the door shut with enough force to rattle the frames on the fall walls, and made his way downstairs as quickly as possible. But Damian was persistent.

As they entered the dining room, Bruce was finishing his coffee while Alfred was setting a place for Tim and simultaneously clearing plates.

Tim silently took his seat, staring at his food for a moment before starting to eat. Damian resumed his seat as well, complaining about the state of his breakfast since he left it.

Bruce cleared his throat to gather their attention and turned to look at Tim. He frowned at Tim, "how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine."

A pause.

"…alright," Bruce eyed him but seemed to let it go. He was about to say something else when Damian interrupted. "Drake was working on some case."

Bruce's eyes returned to Tim, "A case?"

But Tim quickly scarfed down half his breakfast before saying breathlessly, "Sorry, but I've got a lot to do today, see ya later." And running back upstairs he grabbed a jacket and a few things before he was out the door, choosing the first motorcycle he saw and speeding toward Gotham, leaving the rest of the Wayne Manor residents behind.

…..

Tim wasn't lying when he said he had a lot planned for today. His first stop was Gotham Security Archives, Gotham's information center to get access to the national civilian database. It contained fingerprints, bank information, genealogy records, addresses, and other information of Gotham's residents past and present. If you wanted to find anything about anyone and you had the clearance or the money, this is where you would go.

Tim had reviewed the security cameras from the opera house, but there were none in that particular area. _Convenient, or coincidence?_ The only person remotely close to that area was an old janitor.He was very old, with silver-ghost hairs and a worn face. Perhaps once a big man, he was hunched over his cart outside the entrance to the theatre, back to the stage, getting ready to move down the corridor, with his cleaning supplies neatly stacked on top.

So he shifted gears and decided to pull a list of attendees. Now what he needed was to compare all guests' genealogy records and marriage records to see whom in attendance may have the MO. of Court members. The best way to compare, would be bank records; from the mid-19th century and continuous until today. Along with family records, finger prints, in case he came across any, not to mention contracts, and the GSA had it all in one place.

The bat-computer had access to the national criminal database, but Tim knew that Court members wouldn't be criminals. Money and status had a way of removing people from anything - including the law. No. If he wanted to find more about possible Court members or the mysterious novel, he would need to start here. Bruce had mentioned wanting to get access to the GSA at some point; help with cases and all that, but never actually made it to doing so (Tim had checked). So this would be a win for both this case and others to come.

The building itself was the epitome of modern Gotham style architecture. It was made of charcoal granite on the outside, with pane glass windows tinted a dusty hue running up the center of the building. Round edges made the building look like a long and vertical tin can in some ways. The inside of the building was something else. Gotham knew it wouldn't survive if this building was ever robbed or hacked. The security was top of the line from STAR labs. ID panels that read the pulse as well as fingerprints and DNA sensors before allowing occupants into restricted areas, bomb sensors built into the main doors. Security stationed at every emergency exit. And bullet proof glass on every pane. Not to mentioned the dozen or so levels of malware detection and encryption of the information itself. Impressive. Apparently, the security was worth it. The building boasted a perfect record; never been breached.

And Tim was about to hack it.

And not get caught.

Hopefully.

….

The first step would be to get to the server room. Then, Tim would have to bypass the protocols and passwords by physically bridging the external system. Next step would be to breach the firewalls and encryption to the intranet of the GSA. Once there, he would need to upload a pome worm to gain a sleeper control of the system. Then, Tim would be able to remote access –

Well, actually…. Step one is getting past all this security without getting caught.

And that wouldn't be easy.

Tim wandered over to a small group of tourist getting a basic tour of the building from a less than enthusiastic guide. _Open area, three hallways and only rooms. Nothing too important would be kept this close to a possible threat. The building has 26 floors, and the server room would be at the center; the heart of the building, to protect against probable attacks._

Tim had looked over the plans for the GSA last night at some point; but there was no clear view of what the server room looked like, or how a guy like him would properly break in.

 _This_ , Tim thought, scanning the area for his target, _may be a job best done from the inside._ Spying his objective in a small corner slightly down the last corridor on the left, Tim began to casually walk off.

Once inside the surprisingly large room, Tim quickly checked under all the stalls to make sure he was alone. Good, empty. Locking the door behind him Tim turned back to the empty restroom and searched for an air-vent. He found one, but it was the size of a textbook, no way was he squeezing himself in there. Still, standing on a sink to get closer, he surveyed the vent.

Someone shimmied the locked door knob, and startled, Tim slides off his careful perch on the sink and slams into the floor. Keys jingle out, and the nob started to turn. Panicking, Tim runs to a stall trying to think of what to say if he's caught. Quickly but silently, he shuts the door and, knee throbbing, stands on the tank for the toilet. Someone enters.

"Uhh, looks like it was just shut, nobody's been in here all day," The voice stated.

"How can you be sure?"

"Didn't see anyone enter, and I don't see or hear anyone, do you?"

Steps echo across the floor as one of the men pace to the first stall. There was a low bank and squeak as the stall door was pushed open.

 _I could use a smoke pellet to knock them out, but that gives me at most 15 minutes to get to the server room, find what I'm looking for, and get out._

The man was now four stalls away.

 _Can't answer now either, they'll want to know why I locked the door and why I didn't answer them earlier, Tim thought._

Three stalls away.

Two stalls away.

He opened the last stall.

Empty.

"Hm." Turning and walking back over the other man, he shrugged, "just checking. Can't be too careful," And walked out. The other man joined him.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief, and slowly slunk out of the first stall, knee still throbbing lightly. He had quickly grabbed onto the bottom of the last stall and slid himself quickly underneath the stall doors until he landed at the first stall, quickly climbing on the toilet seat to avoid being seen. It was risky, but Tim had been trained for worst situations with more observant people.

He returned to the door, re-locking it, and made his way back to the vent. He had an idea.

Tim couldn't fit through the vent, but a remote controlled batarang could.

The batarang had Wireless capabilities Tim could control from his disguised utility belt, and by adding a chip to it, he could literally plug it in to a computer in the server room and do everything from here. He just needed to get the grate off.

Which was more work than he thought it would be, but eventually gave way. Just as Tim was about to launch the batarang when a load alarm started to blare. _There must be sensor built into the vents! If someone opens one, it must go off!_ Tim quickly reattached the vent, and jumped down. The doorknob was spazzing again and Tim could hear over the alarm someone yelling about keys. Tim wildly looked around. Where was he going to hide now? _The supply closet!_ Next to the door was a small supply closet. Skidding over to it, Tim broke the lock and climbed inside.

Once inside, Tim quickly tried to remember the layout from the night before. _I think on the other side of this –_ The door to the restroom burst open and the heard a dozen or so feet trample into the room. Pressing as far back as he could in the small closet, Tim reached into his utility belt and pulled out a small laser. _Time to go._ Crouching down he made a small insertion at the bottom of the wall, and was almost done when the door to the closet shuttered. Tim Froze. Pulling out a small pellet with one hand, he continued to saw away at the hole he was making. The door started to creek open slowly, and the hole was finished enough.

Tim threw the pellet at the door and thrust all the supplies in that direction. Getting on his stomach, Tim slid and pulled his way through the wall. He was on the other side of the supply closet, which was another supply closet. This time, in the girls' restroom.

Tim quickly brushed off the cement residue, and ran to the door. Peeking out to see if he was clear, he slid out and pressed against the wall. Everyone was focusing on the men's bathroom, where smoke was leaking out the door. Tim slid around the wall back to the open area, and followed the crowd of civilians as they were rushed out the building. Once outside, Tim kept his head down and headed as calmly as he could, back toward his bike.

Well this was a disaster.

…

After that embarrassing fiasco at GSA Tim decided to head to a local diner to get lunch and try to think of another way to get inside that building. _Contract with Wayne Enterprise may work, but then we'll actually have to draw up a contract. Tim thought to himself, or maybe if I just request a tour, offer some security software, and chat with some of the specialist, I may get close enough to plant a chip. Has a higher chance of working without having to bring Bruce in._

Tim pushed the door open to the diner and was greeted by the twinkle of a bell and the murmur of warm conversation. Taking a seat at the back window booth, he sighed. Looking outside, Tim could see police had pulled up to GSA. Great. That would make any other attempts harder. _I can't believe I didn't think of sensors on the vents!_ He berated himself.

The peppy waitress came by and took his order of black coffee and left. Tim returned to staring out the window. When she returned she poured his coffee and chatted about the specials. Tim smiled his thanks but didn't respond. She placed the bill on the table and reminded him, "If you want anything else hon, just let me know," and left. He drank his coffee in quiet, contemplating other ideas about getting inside the building. After he'd finished, Tim realized how drained he still felt. _The best course of action now is to check some other areas, and come back later. See if Red Robin can't get inside tonight, or go with plan B._ Running down his list of possible other areas to check Tim stood with the bill and walked to the counter. Pocketing his spare change after paying he was almost out the door, when a tall built man entered. He bumped Tim on his way and pushed inside. Tim, too disgruntled about earlier events, just threw a glare over his shoulder and re-entered the outside world.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Tim felt something that hadn't been there before. Pulling it out, he inspected it. A small piece of old note paper, and what was scrawled on it in slanted cursive made Tim whip around and rush back inside the diner. A few people looked up, and the peppy waitress came back over to ask if he was all right or if he had forgotten something. But Tim was frozen. The man, the one who had pressed past him was gone. Realizing people were starting Tim stammered out his apologies before clutching the paper in his hand, he left.

Standing outside, Tim looked at the paper again, and felt himself shake. In frustration or something else, he wasn't sure.

 _Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time_


	5. Chapter 5

Red Robin Revamped

Ch. 5

With the GSA building under investigation from his earlier attempt, Tim was forced to go with plan B.

There was one other place in Gotham that had access to the National Civilian Database. Where the entries were accessed to incriminate people and then changed over to the National Criminal Database.

GCPD.

But there was a big catch to going through GCPD. A nosy, slightly intimidating, red-haired catch.

"And what do you think you're going to find in the NCIVD?"

"nothing."

"Then why are you looking?"

Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Barbara always asked the questions he didn't want to answer.

"I don't have time to spell it out for you. Can you help me or not."

Barbara's eyes widened at that remark, before clouding over and sharpening at Tim's own. Tim held her gaze. He didn't needed this. He could go about this another way; go back to GSA, go about this as Red Robin, but the small scrap of paper in his pocket felt like a brick. He needed answers. And he knew that he was miles behind the case from where he should be.

"fine."

Turning back to her computer screen, Barbara began writing out a binary and pulling up the necessary program.

"Alfred is worried about you." She whispered, never turning from her screen, " He said you practically ran out of the house yesterday and that you wrecked your room over another case. An unassigned case."

"B isn't the only one who can decide what's a case and what isn't. I've solved plenty that he thought were cold."

"I know," she argued, this time looking back at Tim, who was leaning against the far corner of her desk. "But… well, look. Just don't keep acting like your dad, OK? You can ask for help when you need it, we're here Tim." She handed him a flash drive, which he pocketed. "That's a backdoor into the system, nobody will be able to detect it, so you can look for nothing as long as you need." She smirked at herself, before sobering again, giving him a stern look, "And next time, come to me first, before you go trying to break into a building and blowing up a wall."

Tim smiled, "you'll be my first call."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: 1. Just putting this out there: I don't own the characters and what not.

2\. Thanks to everyone who has followed this story. I appreciate that you stayed with it through the break and for commenting, following, and enjoying the story. Keep it up!

Red Robin Revamped

CH 6

Getting the data was the easy part. Wading through hundreds of thousands of people- dead and alive- for a sliver of potentially useless information was the fun part.

Tim scrubbed a hand down his face. _This is going to be the death of me._

He could hear movement downstairs. Mumbled voices and peaks of laughter as Dick chatted everyone's ears off about his trip here and plan for the weekend. He could imagine more than hear Damian's tuts and not-so-hidden contempt when Dick undoubtedly tried to take Damian to a kid friendly place they hadn't been banned from yet. Tim sighed as he typed another search algorithm into the queue and hit search. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, he suppressed a groan when footsteps up the stairs started towards his room. _Please Don't. I'm busy and I want to be alone._

His thoughts went unanswered as there was a short, single knock on his door followed by it being pushed open. _Oh, yes. Because I clearly said come on' in!_

"Tim? You Ok?" Tim didn't raise his head from his hands. He could hear Dick make his way over to Tim's bed and flop down with ease. "Why so glum Timmy?" "I'm always glum." "No. Bruce is always glum. You're always tired. There's a difference." "mhn."

Dick chuckled and jumping off the bed, shuffled dramatically over to Tim and threw himself on the teen, wrapping him in a half hug, half hold and dragged him from the desk. "DICK! Let- ah- you ass- Let-LET GO!" Both collapsed backwards onto Tim's bed, Dick still somehow maintaining a hold on Tim and laughing maniacally. Tim Struggled free and stood. "You're a DICK!" But he couldn't help the small smile on his face.

Dick sat up and cocked his head. "So, now that you're up… what was that all about? You know you can talk to me, Timmy."

When Tim didn't answer, Dick frowned. "Alfred told me that you've been spending all your time cooped up in your room working on a case you won't talk about or share with Bruce." Still no answer. "Then I get a call from Babs telling me you went to see her to get access to the GSA. After you tried to break into the actual building." Silence. Dick sat up a little straighter and met Tim's eye. "Look," Dick started, voice casual, "I know the anniversary was last week. And I know you're not me or Jason or anything. And you have a right to spend it how you want, but… don't shut others out. We're here to help you. OK?" He gave Tim a half smile and stood up. "Now. I'm off to bother the rest of our family before Bruce locks himself in his office to do company work. He's going to meet with Lucius in the morning to go over the company portfolio and you know how he seals himself away when he does that." Dick smiled at Tim. "Come get me if you need anything." And with that, he walked away, closing the door behind him.

But Tim barely noticed. His mind was buzzing with a new thought. _How could I miss that?_

Tim turned back to his desk. In the top left drawer where he stashed all the evidence for the case and pulled out the book.

His Father had a CFO too, Mark Sands. Both were very close, just like Bruce and Lucius. And whenever his parents left town, Mark always stepped up to run the business.

Tim opened the journal and started looking through the pages again. He flipped to one of the seemingly random pages that he knew had more than one type of handwriting on it.

Opening his laptop to the GSA connection the former boy wonder searched for contracts Mark signed for projects his parents started. It took some searching, but he finally found a shipping slip to import artifacts signed by his father and a one Mr. Sanders. Tim studied it.

 _Both have the same slopped capital letters and pressure on the last letter and punctuation. Both have a long, thick line when crossing a 't' and off center dotted 'i'…_

 _Wait…_ Tim paused. He was forgetting something. Something was tugging at his mind… where else had he seen…

His muscles were twitching and heart thundering in his head as Tim rummaged through his case notes to the photos he had scanned from his father's study. Tearing through each one Tim looked for the one. Finding it, he set it aside as he instead then flipped through the ones taken from the court's crypt and floor 13. He stopped as he found it. Lightly shuddering He placed them side by side. He was right.

The photo from his father's office was one of his favorites. It was taken at an exhibit his parents had brought back to Gotham on the Ashanti tribe of Africa. His mother was wearing a dull green floor-length dress with silver earrings and a tight up-do, she had her left hand on a glass case with a broken pot inside and her right in his father's hand. His father wore a deep blue suit and shirt with a black tie. He was looking dead into the camera with a serious, but proud expression. To his left was Mark Sands. He had dark brown hair and eyes, slightly shorter than his father, and with a slight lean as he shifted his weight to his left hip, head tilted the same way.

The other photo showed an eerily similar placement. A woman in an all-black dress with her hair in a bun had her left hand on an owl statue and her right in the hand of a man in a black suit. Both wore white owl masks – a signature of the court. The third made wore a mask as well, but a bit of brown hair peeked through the side of the mask from his heavy lean on his left and head following.

Tim was sure of it now. Mark Sanders, his parent's trusted ally had been a member of the court of owls.

He would be a very old man now, being that he was in his 50's when he was acting as CFO. There was no information on him in the GSA database anymore, so he was probably dead.

But there were photos of past relatives. His great grandfather, grandfather, and it looked like a grandson. All look eerily alike, with the same brown eyes and hair. But better than that, he found a motive.

The Drake family was supposed to take over the research and communications for Gotham from an independent organization, one that looked to be made by the people of Gotham. The Court wouldn't want a power source like that left to an organization. They needed it owned by a family on their side, so the Talon was sent to infiltrate and become close to the Drakes. But as they took more of an interest in travel and and archaeology they drifted further from what the Court wanted.

Tim would have been smiling at his brilliant work in finding this all on his own, but something was still nagging at him. _What is it? Something's not right. But what am I missing?_ Tim sat down at his desk, resting his elbows on the smooth wood as he massaged his head. _The Court wanting someone in on communications. Makes sense: cover their tracks and keep their identities secret, I get that. But then why keep someone close to my parents when it was clear they weren't going into the industry the Court wanted? And what about the photos?_ Even Tim had to admit they were too similar for coincidence. _This also doesn't guarantee that my mom and dad weren't in the Court. Just that one of their allies was. Although to be fair, if my parents were in the Court, why have an agent stay with them?_

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Tim closed his eyes. _The only way I'm going to get answers is to go and find out._


	7. Chapter 7

Red Robin Revamped

Ch. 7

It all adds up to…

A/N: apologies about not updating in so long. But thank you to all of you who have stayed with this story and I hope that I can make the wait worth it (at least a little bit).

Disclaimer: premise is mine; but nothing else.

 _The court has his parents tailed, that was the explanation. No other fit. But why?_

 _The Drakes moved away from analytics and information. The Court probably wanted a family in their nest to guard their names from scandals and potential threats. One who would be loyal to them. But it didn't matter in the end. The data is monitored and kept by GSA, a publicly owned company. An impenetrable one, apparently._

 _SO in the end the Court of Owls still lost,_ Tim thought. Running hand down his face and closing his eyes. He'd been up for two days trying to piece this last piece into the puzzle. (Caffeine packets and pure will power.) He'd been working this case for close to a month now. Each passing day without solving it only made his resolve that much stronger. No case had ever taken this long (no case had been this tied into his pride before…) and it had gained the attention of all sorts of unwanted company.

Damian loved to bring it up, asking in a sickly high voice if Tim was ready to admit defeat. Dick had taken to calling almost daily now and after trying to squeeze through an air vent to get into Tim's room to see him, had finally left a week ago. But not before blabbing to Jason and Cass. Cass hadn't shown up yet, but Jason…

 _If Sanders was a member sent to watch my parents, why did he stay in the company and by my parents if they weren't what the Court wanted? Sanders didn't leave until retirement. He stayed well after my parents began a life around the globe and even a year after they were murdered._

Tim couldn't find that final piece of the puzzle; the motive was so unclear. Nothing made sense. He poured over his research, connecting even ridiculous clues together and came up empty handed each time. There was nothing. Why the book, why the shadow, why bother if they lost in the end? Why was there no other family to take control of the gap left by the Drakes?

A board of changing directors and one head director controlled GSA. The head director was in his late 40s from what Tim could find, but no photos seemed to circle. (At least, none with a clear indication who the head director was.)

 _And it wasn't as if I could go back and try to get into GSA again_ , Tim groused to himself. After a, _wonderfully_ unexpected visit from Jason over the weekend, he'd decided he was getting in to the building, starting with areal recon. But instead of doing the smart thing and having Kori fly by or going at night, that dumbass decided to fly a freakin' _drone_ in the middle of the afternoon up to the building and spy on a meeting. It was seen, it was shot down, and it was a mess.

Jason had promised to send whatever footage survived to him, but at this point Tim was ready to throttle anyone else who tried to 'help'. That asshole even had the nerve to ask why he was pissed. By now, the building was on lockdown and security even evacuated the top levels so they could be sealed.

 _Why couldn't they evacuate the lower, more easily accessible for a guy in a bird costume levels?_

Tim had never been so frustrated with Jason before, and that was saying something. He couldn't wrap his head around this damn case! Why the stuff, what mattered, what was a diversion, because at this point he knew that half this junk had to be a damn diversion. Why hadn't anyone noticed before, why-

Was the room always this fuzzy?

Tim sank onto the bed, holding his head in his hands as he focused on remaining upright. He needed to breathe.

The (mad) genius was just considering how to get back at the thunderhead when he got an alert on his phone. Scoffing at the email from Jason, he made his way back to his laptop left open on his desk. At least he could watch the drone fall and burn. It might help him feel a little better, or even give him-

What.

Tim rewound the footage. There. The meeting.

His breathing stopped.

The reclusive director was there, Tim knew it was him. Back originally to the windows clearly speaking to the group in front of him. But as someone pointed out the drone, he turned, just for one frame. The view of his face, surprised (a little scared?) just as the drone was shot down. Brown hair and eyes, with a full face and beard with longer hair, but Tim knew that face.

The same face.

The grandfather, the father, and this guy… it was starting to make sense.

Tim had to get up there.

It was starting to make sense now.

Sorta.

Could it be- wait. I know the answer to that.

 _Is it really the same man, he should be in his 80s or 90s by now, and Court members didn't use the serum._ Tim suited up, organizing everything he'd learned from this case together in his mind. He needed to focus. This mission could be ugly, and it sure wasn't going to be easy. But he would do it. It was time for answers.

Red Robin waited on the roof of the Eucalypia LLC, adjacent to the GSA for the building to clear out. It was almost 7pm and people were still making their way out and home from the day's work. But he wasn't about to mess this up like before.

The plan was simple. Get into the building( don't get caught), search the Director's office (without being seen) and find out more about this guy, anything linking him to the Court, his wearabouts, and whatever else was linked to this case. Then it was time to find this loser and end this.

Tim watched as the last person walked out the building and checking that he was clear, activated his gliders. He'd sent a stealth batarang over before to overcharge the roof of any motion sensors. Landing, he ducked and checked around again. Nothing. _Good_.

He made his way to the edge. Leaning over, he pulled the glass cutter from his belt and carefully cut away a rectangular piece near the top, just big enough to squeeze through.

Red Robin paused, _cameras._ He thought for a moment before pulling out a small EMT device. Activating it, he waited for it to charge to 50% (angering his suit, belt and ears) before tossing it through the hole before him. Hearing the tell-tale static, he flung himself through the hole and landed in a crouch.

The steaming floor and corners told him he was right. _Cameras, and a grid flooring, almost cost me,_ He scowled.

He crept across the floor to the set of double doors near the end of the room. Opening led to a small hallway with four doors and a private elevator, same as Bruce's downtown office. _And if it's set up the same way as all these swanky offices always are, the big guy's office is the last one._

Slipping in proved his point. The office was dripping in power plays. Large tinted glass windows, behind a large oak desk with –

That desk.

Tim immediately was next to it. He ran his hand down the width of the wood and to the seat front. He could hear a murmer of people on the floor beneath him, but he ignored it. Finding the hidden latch Tim popped the secret compartment, same as before.

"It's empty."

Red Robin shot up, looking towards the voice.

There was Mark. Leaning back against the wall as he swirled the drink in his hands. He was the practiced nonchalance he'd seen Bruce use before; completely unfocused on the small, insignificant person before them, while waiting for them to act as you know they will, right into your plan.

Tim refused to be played.

"I will say, I'm impressed you made it in. But I guess I shouldn't be, seeing how you clearly aren't on a high enough level. You didn't even search this room before waltzing in. Pathetic. I could have just rigged it to blow, save me the time of having to kill you."

Tim scoffed, forcing his body to fake relaxion, "And risk your cover for the Court? We both know that isn't how you do things."

"You have no idea what we do or don't do! Your boss couldn't even handle our Talons before."

"Clearly, we did."

Tim slowly made his way around the desk, eyes unmoving from Mark's. He was still leaning in his spot, but Tim could tell he'd either been drinking heavily before now or was suffering from Gotham's specialty coo-coo cocktails.

Mark chuckled darkly, " You know, I've been watching you. All of you. And I was under the impression that you were the smartest of his minions. Yet I've spinned you around this whole time." He paused to chug the last of his drink. " Did you notice the desk? I think it looks better in here than you're father's study. You can really see the woodgrain in the light, you know? He wanted you to use it when you took over, but I'm sure you failing to uphold the company is the least of his disappointment in you at this point."g

 _Well there goes the secret identity._ Tim clamped his jaw to keep from retorting. _Got to turn this around to him. "…_ And did you steal it before or after you noticed I already stole your diary?"

Mark blew air into his drink, "You really thought that mattered? You're just as gullible as your parents were, aren't you? That was a gift to your father. An antique, he deciphered some of it to go find other secret organizations" in Asia, He laughed. "It was nothing more than a trinket to keep him entertained."

Tim pressed on, "While you took over GSA for the Court, keep the communications for the members hidden, and to find their other targets. But clearly they didn't want to leave it to a family who could die out or leave the influence of the Court, so they elected to have one person, serum-enhanced, to do the job."

Tim felt himself smirk at the look of surprise on Mark's face. He hid it with a sip from his drink. "Regardless of the Court's… reasons, you still haven't worked everything out. Shame you never will."

The glass broke behind Tim and he was suddenly hit from behind. Red Robin reacted immediately, falling to his knees from the force and rolling out of the way. It was a Talon, and already back on his feet as well. Tim could hear the door open to his left, Mark making his well-planned exit.

 _I don't have time for this!_ Charging at the Talon, Tim grabbed his knife strap across the Talon's chest and dove through the man's legs, pulling him down. Twisting himself around, Tim vaulted onto the man's back and grabbed for the neck as he was thrown off.

Landing in a crouch as he'd planned he readied his weapon when he saw the Talon's face. He scowled as the old janitor from the Opera building charged at him with inhuman speed. Red Robin forced his palm up to the man's nose, temporarily stunning him while Tim forced the ice gas tablet into his open mouth, twisting his body around and once again trying to force the Talon to the ground. It worked. Reacting the tablet immediately began freezing the Talon, slowing his moments as his body became encased in ice. But Red Robin didn't wait that long. As soon as the Talon was staying down for a good 5 seconds, he bolted out the open doors and after Mark.

Tim found him in the meeting room once again, and without a second breath pulled his bow staff and brought it down in an overhead attack.

Mark seemed to have anticipated this as he shoved himself back and out of the way, maneuvering to face Tim with his back to the doors and Tim's to the glass.

"Were. My. Parents. In the Court. As well." Tim growled. He was done with this. Clearly, Mark wasn't a Talon. He couldn't beat him one on one, and Mark knew that.

Mark, still trying to catch his breath, gave a small laugh. "Really? Of all the… things you… could have asked, you ask that? You really don't know? Not… why I'm the one… in control here? How I found out…who you are? Why…why now I lured you…out? Why I chose to use… the serum? I… I'll tell you! To keep the Court's involvements in mob wars and crimes secret. To- to generate the data for… for the Talons to kill. " He chuckled, catching his breath at last. "And you ask me the most obvious question about two totally pointless-"

Red Robin was aware of the little red dot on the man's chest. Watched it slowly make its way to his head. Tim even debated letting the sniper, or whomever take the shot. Red Robin lunged at Mark, trying to grab him by the shoulder and thrust them both out of the way. Tim heard the shot as it went off and froze. He immediately focused on the man as he dropped to the floor.

….

The Talon was already gone by the time Tim made his way back to the office. It didn't matter. Red Robin had a more important task of covering up everything that happened there that night. After destroying the security footage, monitors, and anything linking him to the building, Tim made his way back to the bat cave. He could feel the beginning of bruises that would last weeks and for the first time since starting the case, Tim felt ready to collapse into bed. He was no closer to any sort of answer about his family than he was when he started this mess. The enemy knew how to get under his skin. His previously thought impervious, analytical, skin. All that; for nothing. He hangs his head in his hands, exhaling loudly. This was a mess.

There was the soft swoosh of a cape on stone floor as Tim felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Bruce, dressed in his Batman suit minus the cowl staring down at him with a surprisingly soft look on his face.

Tim sighed and dropped his head again.

He felt more than heard Bruce sit next to him.

Bruce cleared his throat "… I read your report." He started. "How are you doing?"

Tim groaned, "How do you think? I completely botched this mission. I fell for every trap and red herring he set up. I failed to even find out if my parents were involved or not, and in the end… I failed to do anything."

"You didn't botch the mission. You followed the trail and still managed to find what he didn't want you to find out." As for your parents," Bruce cleared his throat. "You did not fail them. They would be proud of you for all that you've done, with the Titans, and in Gotham. You did well, Tim."

"I didn't stop them. That Talon got away, and the Court is still functioning."

"I don't think they'll ever be defeated." Bruce started quietly, "but they did lose their place in GSA. And I'm sure Wayne Enterprise will be able to suggest a strong replacement to their board."

"I didn't find out about my parents." Tim looked up. "I failed as a detective. I had all the tools, I have an IQ of 184 and I couldn't put 1 plus 1 together to see they were dragging me along. They did this to get to me, and I let them. I let them toy with me and get away without giving me answers." Tim let his head drop. "I failed as a son." He added to himself quietly.

"No. "Bruce said, making Tim look up. "You did _not_ fail. You followed the evidence, you kept a level head in an emotional case. That's an impressive skill." Bruce looked at Tim, making sure to catch his eye. "And, you didn't fail them. They would be proud of how far you've come." _So am I._

"Yeah, "Tim exhaled with a shaky breath, "Besides. I've got more than one family."

There was a 'ttch' from somewhere above them on the steps.

"Do not include me in your 'additional family', Drake." Damian sneered, "I will not be insulted in such a way."

"Don't worry I wasn't" Tim shot back. "I only include people over 5'3 in _my_ family."

"I will grow! What's your excuse for being so abysmally short?! I will be taller than you…"As the bickering continued Dick and Alfred made their way down the stone steps to get ready for the night's patrol. Oracle sent the data on a shipment of a new drug coming in to the Gotham port that night along with a strange pattern of test flights of experimental jets and the path of a prominent Japanese businessman visiting Gotham to protect against alleged assassination attempts.

As Tim began to suit up while tuning out Damian's continued assaults he couldn't help but think how his Sunday mornings with cinnamon rolls or quiet evenings with his father's guests in the study was replaced with propelling himself from buildings with a rope with people dressed up as birds and bats.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

….

EPILOGUE:

Agent 12, are you there?

Go ahead, agent 67.

The target was taken down. All evidence was destroyed

Good, report back to base for debriefing.

It wasn't me.

What?

Apparently Batman Inc. was also on the case.

… do they know?

Hard to say. One might.

…monitor the situation and report back, agent 67. Was it the Bat himself?

No, the new detective.

Then I may have a new target for you.

….

A/N: So I think this part is finished. What did you think? Did you like it? I was trying to show the difference between Tim and Red Robin when he was acting in the situation, and how Mark was becoming more unstable as time went on. I know it was rushed, but I did want to upload it. I'm content with most of it, but I know it wasn't what I originally wanted. But please tell me what you liked and didn't. Was it too obvious, was it rushed, does it need more detail, etc.

Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, favorited!


End file.
